


Like we're gonna die young

by KeepGoing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Last night on earth mentality, M/M, ke$sha makes stiles wanna dance, mentions of Scott/Kira, mentions of stiles/malia, stiles cant dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2100120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To blow off some steam and try to forget, at least for one night, that there are assassins after them, Stiles and the group decide to go to a club.</p>
<p>Stiles can't dance. </p>
<p>But Derek can.</p>
<p>Of course.</p>
<p> <i>Stile darts his eyes around, trying to see if any of his friends are actually SEEING this; Derek freaking Hale grinding against him like its a party at Beyonce and Jay Z’s house</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Like we're gonna die young

 

_****_

_**I feel your heartbeat to the beat of the drums, Oh what a shame that you came here with someone. But while you're here in my arms, lets make the most of the night like we're gonna die young** _

 

The club is packed. Stiles feels so cliche even thinking that but it honestly is. He can barely move in the crowd; his dance moves leaving a lot to be desired. Oh, everyone is staring, guys and girls, but only because he is bouncing around like a complete moron. On speed. A complete moron on speed. 

His arms flailing, his feet shuffling, his ass shaking, and sweat pouring off his body. His t-shirt is sticking to him in places he didnt even know he had, and he is cursing his decision to wear skinny jeans. 

It had been Kira’s idea. Yeah, there were assassins out there trying to kill them all, and each hour the benefactor gets closer and closer to his goal of extinction of all supernatural entities in Beacon Hills and beyond. But Kira was right. They needed a break. They needed to get all their pent up anger and fear out. Her suggestion? 

Dancing. 

So they all whipped out their fake id’s and went to the loudest and flashiest club they could find. It was about a half hour outside of Beacon Hills, and they all piled in the Jeep; Scott, Stiles, Kira, even Lydia. No matter what kind of emotional and mental stress she was going through, she could and would never pass up an opportunity to put on her best outfit. 

So yeah, the club is packed. And Stiles keeps smacking people with his rubber limbs as he lets every ounce of energy and wound up anxiety he had imbedded inside himself. He looks to his left to find Kira and Scott grinding together to the Ke$ha song booming through the club in the most adorable awkward way. It made Stiles smile and his heart ache a little. 

Things with Malia didn't end well. She was hurt and angry about him not telling her about Peter. He needed to give her time. And he was. He extended the invite but she never responded. So tonight he was going to let loose and dance. 

It makes him laugh at himself that he is actually having a good time. He can see Lydia, nursing a red fruity drink at the bar, one guy on either side of her fighting for her attention. She looked bored.

That’s Lydia. 

As the catchy poppy song continues, he throws his head back, the sweat running down into his hair. He catches on fire instantly the second he feels strong hands on his hips. He blinks, turning his head slightly. His cheek rubs perfectly trimmed stubble. He lowers his arm, reaching out to feel a tight denimed leg. 

“Derek?” He yells loudly.

“Shut up. And keep dancing.” The growl goes straight to Stiles cock. 

Stiles swallows hard and does what he’s told. He keeps up with his out of control dance moves, but his hips are finding it hard to get back to the same rhythm as before because he has a firm, rock solid werewolf against his back. He can feel the claws digging into the skin of his sides and Derek mirrors Stiles moves he is making with his hips. 

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks right against the shell of Derek’s ear.

“I was invited.”

Just like that. He was invited. Well who the fuck invited him and why the fuck did he come? 

And why the fuck is he grinding on him like this is some kind of Usher video. 

“Yeah, I get that. But..-”

“Do not overthink this. We could all die, right? Even you who isn’t even on the list. But I know you’d die trying to protect us. So lets make tonight exactly what its supposed to be, Stiles. Now dance like its your last night on earth.” Derek licks a long line up Stiles throat, taking all the sweat and salt from his skin along with him. 

“O-okay.” Stiles trembles against him and pushes his ass against Derek’s crotch. The growl comes again and as Stiles folds his arms back around Derek’s neck, Derek’s grasp on his hips becomes firmer and more aggressive.

Everything with Derek is always firmer and more aggressive. 

The bass of the music is making his ears ring and how close Derek is makes Stiles heart hammer away in his chest. When Derek hand reaches up, fanning his fingers across his pecks, he can feel Derek breathing him in. 

Stile darts his eyes around, trying to see if any of his friends are actually SEEING this; Derek freaking Hale grinding against him like its a party at Beyonce and Jay Z’s house; but none of them are paying attention. It is rather dark in this club, strobe lights causing small flickers of light against their clothing. 

Derek is hard. On every part of his body. So Stiles pulls out all the stops. He knows he can't dance. He knows he’s not sexy. But he’s watched enough MTV to know how to twerk his ass. So he does. Derek’s right. He could die any day now. So could Derek. 

Its not like he doesn't have eyes. Derek is beautiful. And dangerous. And kind. And did he mention beautiful? So if Derek wants to work his cock against his ass on the dance floor, Stiles is going to reciprocate with some ass bouncing. 

Every move Stiles makes with his body, Derek responds to. Every move of his ass, every bounce of his knees. Every caress Stiles makes with his hands against Derek’s cheek. He can feel Derek’s mouth on his neck. Sucking and licking like he’s starving for the endorphins secreting from Stiles skin. 

“So how long does this ‘last night on earth’ rule last?” Stiles mouth grazes Derek’s perfect beard. 

“Till its over.” Derek mumbles matter-of-factly, open mouthed, against Stiles flushed cheek. 

“Are there any other rules?” Stiles rubs his body up and down against Derek’s chest muscles and abs. Derek wraps his arm tightly around Stiles midsection and pulls him so hard back against him, that Stiles loses his balance for a moment. 

“What if I told you there are no rules?” 

Stiles practically melts in Derek’s arms and finally turns to face him, unable to take not looking at him anymore. Its hard to make out expressions on Derek’s face; the strobes light leaving much to the imagination. But he can see the amber of Derek’s eyes. He honestly prefers the blue, the color is just pretty, but with the way Derek is looking at him right now, the amber is good. All of this is really good. 

Stiles opens his mouth to say something, another question to ruin the mood, and Derek’s finger comes up quickly to silence him. 

“Don't. Just dance.” Derek warns. He begins to move against Stiles; of course he can dance. He’s Derek fucking Hale. Beautiful perfect creature, Derek Hale. But Stiles can't dance. He can only flail and bounce, but when he wrap his arms around Derek’s neck and he tries to match the motions of his hips to Derek’s, it doesn't matter. Cause this isn't really dancing. 

This is having sex with your clothes on. 

“Why are you here?” Stiles asks again, taking a chance and bringing Derek’s earlobe between his teeth as he mumbles the question. Derek’s breath hitches and then the next feeling makes his knees weak. Derek’s hands sprawled out against Stiles ass. Derek digs his fingers into the round skin and Stiles squeaks in his ear. Derek smiles. 

“Maybe I wanted to dance.” Derek admits, brushing his nose against Stiles’. Stiles snorts and Derek raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay, maybe you did. You’re like an enigma, wrapped in a taco, wrapped in a v-neck.” Stiles laughs, burying his face in Derek’s sweaty chest hair. He inhales, and fuck Derek smells amazing. “So tell me more about this no rules thing.”

Derek smiles and Stiles swears he sees God. “Mmmm. No rules means no rules. You can do whatever you want. Last night on earth, right?”

“Last night on earth and I’m still a virgin.” Stiles rolls his eyes and Derek growls so loudly he swears the couple next to him heard that. 

“You and Malia…?”

Stiles shakes his head and leans in close to Derek. “No. Never.”

It happens so fast it makes Stiles head swim. Derek’s mouth is hot and heavy and needy against his lips. Prying it open with his wet strong tongue. Stiles can't even call this a kiss. Its like a sloppy licking, biting, slurping, mouth thing that is going on. But its hot. And he can feel the hard beautiful outline of Derek’s long and thick cock against his thigh. And he wants this mouth thing that is going on between them to be going on between his legs. 

No rules right?

Stiles bites Derek’s lip and he pulls back, eyes flashing from green to amber. 

“I want this…” Stiles cups Derek’s, _Jesus Christ that's huge_ , dick in his palm. “...in my mouth.”

Derek grabs Stiles wrist, resting it against his crotch. “We do this...last day on earth or not. I told you to just dance, Stiles.”

“I’m tired of dancing.” Stiles ghosts his lips against Derek’s. “We’ve been dancing for 2 years. I don't want to dance anymore. I want this werewolf cock. Its my last night on earth, and I don't want to die a virgin.”

“Stiles,” Derek says gently, taking his hand on Stiles wrist and reaching up to cup Stiles cheek. “You know this isn't your last night on earth.”

Stiles smirks and gently squeezes Derek through his jeans again. “No. Rules.”

“Stiles.” Derek warns with a low growl. 

“Derek.”

Derek reaches around literally manhandling Stiles by the back of his neck. “If we do this…” He can't even finish his sentence, again, because Stiles is rubbing with his long fingers up and down the hard indent in the front of his jeans.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He was just going to rub up against Stiles, scenting him a bit, and leaving them both sexually frustrated and wanting more like it had been for years. The ‘what if’ still floating in the air between them for the next couple. Maybe until the danger was gone. But the danger was always going to be there, even if they both survived the through the names on the benefactors list. Or maybe until Stiles was of legal age. But Derek knows Stiles has always been older. In mind and spirit. And even though his birthday turning him into an adult was still months away, his body has been an adult for a long time now. Derek’s noticed. He always notices. 

But he also knows if this happens, he won't be able to just chalk it up to ‘last night on earth’ craziness, 

“This will change everything.” Derek presses his dick harder into Stiles grasp. He can’t help it. He can never help it when it comes to Stiles. 

Stiles mouth turns up into a wide grin. 

“Promise?”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a sequel to this. You didn't think I'd leave it there, do you? ;)


End file.
